


How to Bake Pirozhkis

by mechadogmarron



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Cooking Lessons, Domestic, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 16:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15368958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechadogmarron/pseuds/mechadogmarron
Summary: Otabek hadn’t grown up in the kitchen, beyond helping chop the vegetables sometimes. He might've picked up the basics in Canada, but he's no expert. Yuri takes it upon himself to teach him a family favorite.





	How to Bake Pirozhkis

“See how it’s risen? That’s how you know it’s ready.”

“I see.” Otabek hadn’t grown up in the kitchen, beyond helping chop the vegetables sometimes. There had been plenty of hands, after all, and he had been devoted to his work. He certainly hadn’t grown up frying bread, or baking it for that matter. He’d picked up a little in Canada, but only the basics, the staples of a skater’s diet — poultry, wild rice, fruit, vegetables. He could make a solid salad, but the world of cooking without worrying about macros was foreign to him.

“Now, listen up, because this is important. You want it tripled in size — no less. Some people do double, but I’m a diehard tripler. Too big and the bread’ll be too much fluff, not enough crunch. Really excessive and it’ll fall. Not enough, and it’s not going to have the right texture — it gets nasty dense. It usually takes about an hour and a half, but it’s best to keep an eye on it. Otherwise, it’ll get nasty. You don’t want that.” Yuri grinned. “My grandpa, he doesn’t have to watch at all. He just knows when it’s ready. But I can’t do that, and you definitely can’t do that, so keep an eye on it.”

Otabek nodded, watching as Yuri took the dough from the bowl it had rested in, plopping it onto the floured countertop and beginning to roll it into a long snake. It’d be a bit of a pain to clean up, but neither of them minded. At least they wouldn’t have to sweep; JJ’s surprisingly thoughtful housewarming gift had been a Roomba. “Some people cut it into triangles instead — it’s a matter of personal preference. This is just the best way.” He cut off a segment, rolled it into a ball, and smashed it. “This way, you get the proper round shape, and it’s easy to measure if you’re not used to doing it by hand. Do they eat pirozhkis in Almaty?”

“Yeah. I never had them much, though.”

“Working too hard? I had them in the off-season sometimes, when I visited Grandpa, or when he could come watch me win a competition.” He smiled. “His are the best, so I never had them anywhere else. You’d have to be stupid to disagree. They’re really not that bad for you if you stick to the traditional cabbage-egg filling and don’t deep-fry. I mean, the deep-fried, meaty versions are _really_ good, but you can fit a couple of these babies even into the on-season diet. I keep hearing about air fryers, but it sounds like a load of bullshit to me.”

“I can’t say I’m familiar with the concept. When we fried food we did it the traditional way.”

“My opinion’s always been, don’t halfass food. If you’re going to indulge, indulge!” Yuri grinned. “I wish Grandpa was here. His are always better than mine.”

“He has a lot more experience. I’m sure yours will be delicious.” When they’d settled in together, Otabek had been surprised by his fiance’s cooking chops. “I should ask my mother to teach me some of her recipes next time we’re in Kazakhstan. I’d love to share more of what I grew up with with you. Although we ate a lot of Russian food, so I really don’t know how different it would be. I was always a big fan of borscht, personally.”

“It’s delicious,” Yuri agreed, “and skater-friendly. My grandpa makes great borscht, of course. He’s really the best at cooking everything.” Having finished dolloping the cabbage and egg mixture he’d prepared earlier into the flattened ball of dough, he pinched it shut, depositing it onto the baking tray. “Now you try, Beka. Pinch it off about here —” he made a small depression in the dough to mark the spot — “roll it up, and flatten it. Flour your hands first, though.”

He complied, powdering his hands before pulling the dough away and rolling it in his hands, flattening it against the counter-top. The filling smelled delicious, a little extra spice added to make it more exciting, and he deposited a generous spoonful onto the bun before closing it just as Yuri had shown him.

“Looks great! The hard part about making pirozhki is all of the waiting. When you’re hungry, the last thing you want to do is have food in two hours. And they’re best fresh out of the oven, so making them in advance just isn’t the same.” He made another, then gestured for Otabek to do the same; soon, they were covering the baking sheets in the little pockets of heaven. The recipe made a good three trays of twelve apiece, and he couldn’t bear to reduce it when he could always share with everyone else.

Smiling, he popped them into the oven, setting the timer for twenty minutes. They’d picked a middle-end apartment, nothing luxury despite Yuri’s considerable earnings and Beka’s lesser but still not forgettable winnings and upper-class background, but the oven was still plenty large, with lots of room for good food. “Shouldn’t take long.”

Otabek nodded, watching the oven for a moment before Yuri reached out to pull him close, pressing their lips together. Beka was always warm, even on the ice; in the comfort of their kitchen his presence was even more comforting. Yuri grinned into their kiss as he felt Beka’s warm, strong hands across his back. Though his growth spurt had left them the same height, he wasn’t quite as broad-shouldered as his fiance — not as delicate as he’d been in his days as the Russian Fairy, but still slender, a figure he’d worked hard for. Their bodies fit together perfectly. He ran his hands along Otabek’s back, then dipped them low to give his cute butt a little squeeze, grinning at Beka’s surprised laugh.

“Maybe after dinner? You don’t want the pirozhkis to get burnt after all the time you’ve put into them. Wouldn’t be especially instructive, either.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “If you’re sure.”

“There’s plenty of time.”

“Ugh, you’re so sensible. You know, it’s a good way to burn off the extra calories too.” He grinned, leaning into Beka, pushing him against the counter. “You’re pretty —”

“Yuri, I hate to interrupt, but…” He leaned forward, revealing that the flour on the countertop was now all over his jacket. “I think we should probably clean up.”

Yuri laughed, despite himself. “Yeah, yeah. Go toss that in the hamper, I’ll get started.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> This was heavily inspired by the Domestic Otayuri Zine, https://domesticotayurizine.tumblr.com/, which I will be writing another piece for, probably cooking-related - if you're a fan of domestic Otayuri, please check it out! 
> 
> The recipe here is based off a variety of different versions on Allrecipes; however, this one is really good and doesn't involve any particularly challenging cooking techniques outside of using yeast: https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/140517/traditional-russian-pirozhki/


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